CARRIER 8: ALPHA STRIKE By: Keith Douglass

the satellite programs. Senior Air Force staffers continually pointed out

that the outer reaches of the earth’s atmosphere were still within their area

of expertise. Space-based sensors, weapons–indeed, anything that flew–ought

to belong to them. In one series of white papers, they’d argued that

satellites could be used as forcefully in a “presence mission” as any carrier

battle group.

Satellites in presence missions. Vice Admiral Magruder snorted in

disgust. According to the officers that wore light blue suits, the mere rumor

that a satellite was focused on a particular region would give a two-bit

dictator reason to worry. They’d immediately stop slaughtering their own

populations in the name of ethnic cleansing and become peaceful members of the

world community.

For some strange reason, the rest of the military community failed to

agree that a satellite could be as visible a symbol of U.S. intentions as a

carrier battle group or amphibious task force sitting within view of the

coast. While all services agreed that air superiority was a necessary

precondition for a successful land campaign, no service except the Air Force

believed that air power could eliminate the need for ground combat.

What would the “Air Farce” want next? Satellites flying in formation

like F-14’s? A satellite equivalent of “Top Gun” school? Vice Admiral

Magruder smiled at the thought and wondered if he could hornswoggle some

junior Air Force officer into seriously proposing the concepts. The resulting

flame war and embarrassment would be worth watching. Now that he was safely

out of the Pentagon and back in an operational command, the political

machinations and aspirations of others were a good source of flag-level jokes.

No, despite the invaluable information that satellites provided, they

were far too vulnerable and weather-dependent to replace the Navy in presence

missions. Besides, assuming that satellites would serve as a deterrence to

hostilities depended on one assumption of doubtful validity–that the country

supposedly being deterred knew that satellite was there. And for the

third-world countries that currently teetered on the edge of violence, that

was a mistake.

On the other hand, China was hardly a technological backwater. While its

society was rigidly stratified, with millions of people living in unimaginable

poverty, the most populated country in the world had devoted a large

percentage of her GNP to military advancements. Along with her purchases from

Russia, Japan, and Korea, she was quickly developing a high-tech

military-industrial complex of her own. Analysts at highly classified

briefings had speculated that China’s international intelligence network was

becoming a significant concern, particularly in light of the United States’

relatively lenient policy of granting political asylum to almost any Chinese

national who claimed it. Undoubtedly, China had the means for determining

when U.S. satellites were providing surveillance on the area, and Vice Admiral

Magruder wouldn’t rule out the possibility that they were also tapped into the

satellites’ maintenance schedule. Maybe satellites could deter the burgeoning

regional–and soon, international–power.

But deterrence required understanding why a country was doing whatever it

was doing, and unraveling the chain of logic that underlay China’s political

and military decisions was an almost futile task. Steeped in centuries of

military tradition, and following the tenets of such brilliant

military-political thinkers as Sun Tzu, the Chinese agenda was undoubtedly a

subtle one.

“Get me a secure line to General Emberfault,” the senior Magruder said,

referring to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. “He’s probably

already gotten reports on this from other sources, but I want him to hear it

from us. It’s my battle group that’s on the line out there, and I need to

know what I can do to protect it.”

1215 local (Zulu -7)

cvic, USS Jefferson

“I didn’t see it myself, Admiral, but I sure felt the blast.” Bird Dog

Robinson shifted uneasily in the hard plastic chair. The buzz of adrenaline

from the bolter and his trap was starting to fade, leaving him feeling dopey

and slow. He was tempted to rest his elbows on the government-issue table and

support his head with his hands. He was still in his flight suit, although

he’d ditched his ejection seat harness in the Handler’s office on his way down

to CVIC for debriefing. Despite the air conditioning in his Tomcat and in

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